


Origin Story

by raimykeller



Series: wtfandomfusion - summer 2017 [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hill is Gotham, Dark Universe, First Meeting, Gotham AU, Gun Violence, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sheriff Stilinski is Jim Gordon, Stiles is Selina Kyle, Stiles witnesses the Hale parents getting shot in front of Derek, The Hales are the Waynes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raimykeller/pseuds/raimykeller
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Stiles Stilinski spends his nights as a pickpocket on the streets of Beacon City, despite his father being one of the city's most respected detectives. The night he meets Derek, Stiles is somewhere he isn't supposed to be, and both boys' lives are changed forever.





	Origin Story

**Author's Note:**

> WTFF - WTFandomFusion - is the brainchild of [ quizasvivamos ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quizasvivamos/pseuds/quizasvivamos) as something fun to do over the summer! 
> 
> WTFF is a 10-week writing and art challenge, beginning June 19th and ending August 27th. Each week, we'll have a new prompt that includes a different featured fandom, a randomly selected profession, and a randomly chosen beverage. Other than that, there are no rules! Join the fun and follow the challenge on [ tumblr ](https://wtfandomfusion.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> Week Ten Prompt Words: Gotham, Janitor, Coffee

Stiles liked to have a little fun sometimes. Being a detective’s son was exhausting, always having to follow the rules and stay on the right side of the law. So on evenings when his dad worked late and his handler (old Ms. Beverly from 5B and DON’T call her a babysitter. I’m 13 for god’s sake, dad) passed out on the couch in front of reruns of The Big Bang Theory (ok, so he slipped half an Ambien in her evening decaf), he would slip out his bedroom window, take the fire escape stairs, and disappear onto the always-busy streets of Beacon City. 

Growing up, Stiles spent a lot of time hanging out at the police department, especially after his mom died. And in a city as big and corrupt as Beacon, it was easy for a little kid to get lost in the fray of criminals getting booked, fights breaking out, and calls coming in. Stiles found himself drawn to the folks in the holding cells. Mostly petty thieves brought in for one thing or another, they all loved to chat with the bright-eyed kid who was all too eager to learn their tricks. 

Pretty soon, he was lifting wallets around the station, from cops and lawyers, not even the janitor was safe. He gave them back, of course, minus a twenty or two. With all the chaos going on in the station, he was never caught or even suspected.

So while his dad crusaded around the city bringing criminals to justice, Stiles spent his nights becoming Beacon’s youngest petty criminal. Even at 13, the irony wasn’t lost on him. He probably wouldn’t make a career out of it, he reasoned to himself. Actually, he wanted to be a detective, just like his old man. 

For now, he enjoyed the hours spent in freedom under the cover of darkness, neon lights, and Beacon City’s best (and worst) nightlife. 

\---

This particular evening started off in much the same way as his usual escapades. Ms. Beverly was out like a light by 8, and by 9, Stiles had lifted 7 wallets, collected $155 in cash, and acquired 2 pricey gold watches to add to his collection. 

On his eighth wallet, though, he made a mistake. He was too close to the mark in a too-crowded area. The man suspected a pickpocket right away and started chasing Stiles through the throng of people. Fortunately, Stiles was light and fast on his feet, and his small size made it easy for him to slip through the cracks. 

With his heart beating wildly from adrenaline, he stumbled down a dark side street and took refuge on a second-floor fire escape platform to catch his breath.

He had only been up there for about a minute when a bright, happy laugh reached his ears, contrasting starkly with the usual noises of the city. Stiles scooted closer to the edge of the fire escape to peer out into the darkness. 

Three figures had turned down the street and we were walking towards Stiles, and when they passed under a street lamp, he saw that they were a man, a woman, and a young boy, maybe only a little bit older than Stiles. They were dressed in nice, stylish clothes, and looked as though they were walking on air. 

When the trio passed under Stiles’ hiding place, he was able to hear their conversation.

“Son, what did you think of the principal ballerina? She was a beauty, wasn’t she?”

“Ugh, Dad,” the boy groaned. “I mean, she was alright? I just enjoyed the whole ballet, in general. It was pretty spectacular!”

“Of course it was, baby!” the woman exclaimed, pulling the boy closer to her. “The Nutcracker is a classic! I still remember the first time I saw it, I was your age…”

It was then that Stiles heard the distinct click that could only be the cocking of a pistol. He immediately looked towards the source only to see a dark figure approaching the family. A light flickered across the man’s face for a moment, and his bright, piercing blue eyes were seared into Stiles’ memory forever.

His heart dropped in his chest because he had seen enough on the news to know exactly what was going to happen next. There was no escape for him this time; any movement would give away his position. He could do nothing but hold his breath and wait and hope for the best.

“Give me your wallet, now!” the man growled in a deep, rasping voice. The father immediately put himself in front of his wife and son and handed the man his wallet. 

After a moment’s hesitation, the thief motioned with his gun to the strand of pearls around the woman’s neck. “Those, too.”

With shaking hands, she quickly removed the necklace and handed that to him as well. Stiles hoped beyond hope that the man was satisfied and that he would leave them be.

The moment seemed to last forever, and Stiles will never be able to know for sure what when through the gunman’s head, why, even with the cash and the jewels, he simply cocked his head to the side with half a smile and pulled the trigger, once on the man, and then again on the woman. The boy, still from shock, was left unharmed as the man turned and ran back in the direction he had come. The silence after that second shot was chilling. 

And then the boy began to scream.

Stiles moved on auto pilot then, clambering down from his perch and pulling the hysterical boy into a bone-crushing hug. 

“I’ve got you. Help is coming,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that until the boy’s sobs had calmed into quiet gasps and red and blue police lights flashed in the distance. 

Stiles pulled back from the boy, “You’re safe now, okay. Ask for Detective Stilinski. He’ll help you. I have to go. Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

The boy nodded shakily, and Stiles slipped off again into the darkness, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders, and a new purpose for his life. 

He was going to get justice for the boy he had held in his arms. Nothing else mattered anymore.


End file.
